Page 23 of What Goes Around

At dinner, Apple swept in like a breeze, glowing, perfect, effortless, while I sat stiffly at the table, my hair covering the ruined half of my face.

“Hey,” she said brightly as she slid into her chair. Her eyes flicked over my face before she pasted on a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, Ash. That must hurt.”

I didn’t answer.

Dinner was quiet, tense, every clink of silverware scraping across my nerves. Finally my mother cleared her throat.

“Honey, what’s the big news you wanted to share?”

Apple smiled shyly. “Um… I’m pregnant.”

Mom gasped. Dad blinked. Apple rested a hand on her stomach like she was already posing for a maternity shoot.

Something inside me snapped cleanly.

“Whose is it?” I asked.

Apple’s smile faltered. “Ashley… you know who.”

“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t pretend this is normal. You slept with my boyfriend. And now you’re having his baby and we’re all just supposed to celebrate?”

Mom lifted a hand, her voice tight. “Ashley, please—”

“No.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t stop. “I was in love with him. For four years. And you—” I looked at Apple, “—you didn’t even come see me in the hospital.”

Her eyes shifted away. “I… didn’t know what to say.”

“You could’ve started with ‘sorry.’”

Silence dropped over the table like a weight.

Dad cleared his throat. “Honey, Apple has been through a lot. You know her history. She deserves happiness.”

I let out a hollow, broken laugh. “And I don’t?”

Mom sighed softly. “We aren’t taking sides.”

But they already had.

It was in the way they looked at her. Gentle. Protective. Careful with their tone, like she might break.

Like what she’d done to me didn’t matter. Like it had been… inevitable. Excusable.

Because she had “been through so much.”

Apple exhaled shakily. “I didn’t plan this. I didn’t plan any of it. But I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to be happy.”

Before I could respond, Dad leaned forward.

“And how does Nick feel about… everything?”

His tone sounded neutral, but I knew that look. That calculating glint. The same look he wore whenever he asked when Nick and I were going to get married.

Nick came from money. Influence. Status.

Dad had always wanted me to “secure” that future.